


Case 180: The Adventure Of The Dingley Dissimulation (1900)

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [232]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: 221B Baker Street, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Caring, Destiel - Freeform, Disguise, F/M, False Accusations, Gay Sex, Johnlock - Freeform, Justice, London, M/M, Minor Character Death, School, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-27 11:38:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17766083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: ֍ The disaster-prone Hawke/Buckingham family is back in the Fates' line of fire again as Sherlock is employed by rival parties in the same case. A false accusation could mar a young man's life - but the accuser gets rather more than she bargained for when she has a train journey she will not forget in a hurry!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MelodyofWings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodyofWings/gifts).



_[Narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Esquire]_

It was fortunate that we had no callers during our 'honeymoon' upon our return from Scotland, or for that matter the three days afterwards that it took for the room to be put back to normal. However on the fourth day our next case arrived and it was a most curious one. 

It was usual for someone to ask me to investigate a matter to clear them and/or to find evidence against someone else – more than one client had tried to emulate the vile 'Mr. Robert Phillimore' and inveigle me into their dark schemes thinking that I would sort their problem only to find that my idea of justice was not the same as theirs – but this a rare time when _both_ parties in a decidedly delicate matter asked me to intervene on their behalves. And matters were further complicated by.... well, read on.

It was a Monday in early October when a card was brought up by one of the maids, with whom Mrs, Singer really needed to have words about all that unseemly smirking. Even if John was still squeaking with pain at every step when he answered the door to them; I admit that I may have been feeling just a tad energetic after my fourth coffee that morning.

All right, my sixth coffee. I looked at the card and frowned.

“Problems?” John asked in a broken voice.

I myself was far too well-bred to smirk as he sat down very carefully at the table for his day's writing. He still looked suspiciously at me however.

“Lord Medlow is downstairs”, I said heavily.

John winced, and for once it was not the usual. Austin Lord Medlow was one of the worst examples of the English nobility, a forty-something member of several London gentlemen's clubs whom I knew of as his wife Andrea was a friend of my mother's, and of course also through the occasional details about him that someone who hardly ever read the social pages of the newspapers may have passed on to me on the odd occasion. Mrs. Andrea Medlow had made a disparaging match in every sense of the word and she and her husband were now living apart from each other, their one daughter Reinelde living with her father. John had said that he was often lampooned as 'Merry Medlow', something that he most palpably was not as his face seemed permanently set in an angry scowl, and that he was always making speeches about how the Lower Orders were Getting Above Themselves These Days. 

It was amazing what John got from hardly ever reading those social pages. Either way I fervently hoped that I would be unable to help him.

“Can we not say that we are out? John asked. “We could always use the fire-escape.”

I shook my head at him. One did not hide from potential clients. Although...

No.

“We had better have him up”, I said. “Hopefully we shall soon be rid of him.”

֍

Lord Medlow turned out to be as unpleasant as I had expected, if not even more so. He nodded to me, glared suspiciously at John and sat down without being asked. It was perhaps fortunate that he was not cognisant of the slight connection between us; my mother had Told my father to fund Lady Medlow's lawyer along with some of his friends, so that even if she could not obtain a divorce as yet her husband had been compelled to reluctantly pay for her upkeep.

“This is all frankly disgusting”. Lord Medlow said scowling at the fire in its turn as if it was not burning brightly enough for him. “Reinelde says that some boy groped her at school and they're dithering about the whole damn affair. I want him expelled.”

I was surprised.

“You wish me to investigate her accusations?” I asked. He snorted disdainfully.

“They are not accusations, they are _facts!_ ” he said roundly. “And the school says they have to actually do an investigation first!”

Incredibly he was contriving to sink even further in my estimation. That was some achievement.

“I suppose that they can hardly preach Magna Carta to their pupils and then behave like some mediaeval despot when it comes to justice”, I said mildly. “I dare say that the boy's parents might have something to say about the matter as well.”

“Poppycock!” Lord Medlow snapped. “This boy – Harwood something or other – _must_ be guilty. My Reinelde says so!”

John tense over at his table for some reason. I wondered why.

“May we know the name of the school in question?” he asked.

Lord Medlow was digging himself an even deeper hole when he looked set to ignore the question, but he quickly realized from my expression that I was wondering much the same. He sighed in a put-upon manner.

“Dingley Academy”, he said. “They are based in a place called Cheddington, down in Buckinghamshire. It used to be just a boys' school but they opened up a second one for girls a short distance away. Fine quality education so of course I got my Reinelde in there.”

One can only hope and pray that the apple has fallen far from the tree then, I thought to myself, unlikely though that seemed. John was still tense for some reason and that worried me.

“What does your daughter say befell her?” I asked, wishing this whole interview over and done with. The fellow's _eau de cologne_ was also beginning to grate on me now although I supposed there was always the chance that it was flammable. If I were to accidentally stumble into him while he was by the fire....

John was getting to be a bad influence on me.

“She was groped by this young dog at the station when she was returning from London”, Lord Medlow said. “Yesterday it was; she reported it at once but the school has done nothing!”

“The wheels of justice do not move as fast as many would like”, I said. “This sounds intriguing, sir. I think that the doctor and I will travel up to Buckinghamshire and make some inquiries into this matter. I always seek to apply justice whenever and wherever I can.”

He missed the warning there, as I had known he would.

“Justice is what I pay good money for”, he said rudely. “My card. You will inform me when you have something, Make it soon.”

He nodded to me, ignored John, stood and was gone.

֍

I waited some few moments before looking across expectantly at my beloved.

“What is it?” I asked. “Do you know this woman?”

“No”, he said looking worried, “but I think we may know the boy that she is accusing. Remember the Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist?”

I nodded.

“We met Lord Hawke's adopted brother Henry and poor young Master Lion Black, whose father murdered his mother”, I said.

“And Mr. Henry Buckingham told us that his own son was at school with young Lion, whom he adopted at the boy's urging?”

“Yes?” I said. “What of it?”

John did look troubled.

“I remember the name of Mr. Buckingham's natural son”, he said. “Hereward, like in the Adventure Of The Uffa Poniard. And I know he transferred both boys away from Aylesbury Grammar after the whole sorry business because they moved to a place in the same county when his wife died. I am sure that that place was Cheddington.”

Hereward. Harwood. Surely not more bad luck for the Hawke/Buckingham family?

֍

John's worst fears were proven right in a little under two hours when Lord Kitebrook (Mr. Henry Buckingham) and his son Hereward arrived at Baker Street. Both were clearly very unhappy.

“Lord Medlow told everyone within shouting distance that he was coming here to _demand_ your services immediately”, Lord Kitebrook said glumly. He was not really that similar to his adoptive brother Lord Harry Hawke (they were I knew distant cousins) but the two things that they most shared were the Hawke blue eyes and the sense of honesty that shone through in both gentlemen. “I do not suppose that you can help me now as it would be a conflict of interest.”

“Actually I did warn Lord Medlow that any involvement on my partwould be the application of justice, whether it served his ends or not”, I said. “It will doubtless come as a complete shock to you that he did not take the hint, presumably because I did not wrap it around a brick and throw it at him!”

Lord Kitebrook smiled for the first time that day. I turned to his son Hereward, a young fellow of some fifteen years of age who was very much the image of his father. He had not really changed that much since the dark days of his friend's mother's murder a few years back, but he was definitely growing into the image of his father.

“I am going to ask you some questions, sir”, I said. “I know that gentlemen of all ages are wont to stretch the truth oftentimes beyond breaking point, but if I am to help you in this matter I must have _all_ the facts up front. If something emerges later in the case that contradicts what you said earlier, then it will not just be your school who looks askance at you.”

He nodded, clearly fearful.

“Speak slowly so the doctor can take notes”, I said, “and tell me everything that happened yesterday leading up to this unhappy incident.”

“I spent the morning working with Lion, sir”, he said. “The school gives us projects to work on in our own time and they're quite fun; I was doing mine on trains. After lunch he went to archery club and I walked down to the station. Cheddington is a junction so we get the mainline trains whizzing through from London to Scotland, the local stoppers, and the branch-line train that goes down to Aylesbury.”

“There's a road that crosses the station at its southern end, right at the end of the platforms. The schools are situated either side of the railway, the girls to the west and the boys to the east. Of course we have nothing to do with them because.... well, they're _girls!”_

He said it as if describing some alien species. Then again, to him they quite probably were. I caught his father smiling slightly.

“I know that you're supposed to buy a platform ticket when you enter the station but the station-master Mr. Brush he does not mind me there, taking engine numbers and helping out on odd jobs in between. I spent about a couple of hours there before everything went to hell in a hand-cart. That Miss Medlow came in on the London train; I was helping an elderly lady with her bags because she was for the branch-line one that was stood there waiting, and Her Haughtiness comes up and tells me to drop everything and carry _her_ things instead. So I told her where she could shove her bags!”

He blushed fiercely.

“Sorry, father.”

“I have had the misfortune to meet the harridan myself”, Lord Kitebrook said. “I would have done much the same. Possibly have even thrown in a free demonstration!”

“The branch-line train was heading off and I was just turning to go back to my jobs when she came up to me and would you believe it, she tried to make me carry her bags again!” the boy said.”We struggled for a bit until I could get away; no-one saw us and in the end she stormed off in a huff. And as you know, she went to her school and said I tried to grope her! I would as soon have groped Miss Damson the French mistress.”

“Miss Damson is the sort of lady who would give London's top pugilists pause for thought”, Lord Kitebrook said with a slight smile, “although in fairness I do not think that even she deserves _that_ comparison.”

His son blushed at the mild reproof. I thought for a moment.

“I would also like to know what the opinion of Miss Medlow is around the area”, I said. “I do not suppose you know how she is thought of in her own school though.”

“Actually I do”, the boy said. “One of the servants left her school and came to ours, and she said much the same as everyone else. If she is ever found with a dagger sticking out of her back, the list of suspects will be pretty much everyone who ever met her!”

I smiled at his vehemence.

“Can you help us?” Lord Kitebrook asked anxiously.

“The best solution would be to disprove this woman's allegations against your son”, I said. “Failure to do that will otherwise mean that people will continue to wheel out that old canard about their being no smoke without fire, which will hang over this young gentleman for many a year. I think that her father might be persuaded to co-operate.”

Lord Kitebrook looked at me as if I were mad.

 _“Lord Medlow?”_ he asked incredulously. _“Co-operate?”_

“In a way”, I smiled. “And I have someone upon whom I can call for a rather large favour that will help.”

֍


	2. Chapter 2

The next day John and I went to Euston Station to embark on our investigations. He was clearly annoyed that I knew something and was not telling, and my smirk only made matters worse. I had got lots of angry sex out of him the night before in a futile effort to extract my plans and I was feeling very happy. And more than a little sore!

John looked at me askance when I handed him his ticket.

“Wolverton?” he asked. “That is a lot further than Cheddington, is it not?”

“About twice as far”, I said. “But the London and North Western Railway Company has its works there, and the general manager will I think be obliging in what I wish him to do for me.”

“Which is?” John demanded.

“You will find out soon enough!” I teased. 

He pouted adorably which was quite unfair as it only made me want to....

I tipped the guard and jammed the door of our first-class compartment. Why not?

֍

John was the one limping slightly as we alighted at Wolverton and made our way to the great Works. I had telegraphed ahead to Mr. Ramsbottom and he was waiting for me. He read through the sheets I handed him (and had not let John see them no matter how much he pouted) and said that he could have this all ready by Saturday if that was acceptable. It was and I paid him before we left.

We had lunch in Wolverton and then returned to Cheddington where we were to meet Lord Medlow and his daughter. I had allowed John an extra slice of pie because I had a feeling that he might well need it. Besdies he could always work out his frustrations on me later.

I was sadly all too right about Miss Reinelde Medlow. She was if anything even worse than her father, a teenage harridan who clearly thought that the more make-up she managed to pile onto her face the better (a paper bag would have been better still and a lot cheaper!). And her annoying voice was not only shrill but kept wandering up and down, while her father stood behind her and looked frankly incredulous that anyone could doubt this paragon of womanhood. I doubted that even my mother could have created such a terrible creature in her writings......

I was going senile in my old age!

Miss Medlow gave me her account of events which tallied with young Master Hereward's apart from the groping (I increasingly felt that the boy had been right when he had said that he would have sooner groped the French mistress). I told both her and her father that I would be instituting inquiries in the area and she too managed to plunge further in my estimation by asking if I needed John here. What a _stupid_ question!

Talking of John we also met Miss Hart, the headmistress of the girl's school, who confirmed the general opinion of Miss Medlow and apologized for our having been dragged in. She and Mr. Flint, the headmaster of the boys' school, both believed that the girl was making the whole thing up but there had to be an investigation either way. And yes, Miss Hart did simper at me which annoyed John no end.

֍

John was clearly surprised that as the week progressed I did not seem to be actually _doing_ much as regarded the case. We went to the boys' school and met both Hereward Buckingham and his adopted brother Lion, the latter most graciously thanking us once more for our helping him in the case of his mother's murder. I was surprised when the boy, who was clearly a lot more observant than I had given him credit for, insisted that I should in no way hold myself to blame for his father having brought forward his evil plans and thus prevented me from saving his mother, as he knew that I would have felt that I had failed in some way. I had only remarked on this to John and I felt touched that such a young fellow could be so magnanimous.

I would as it happened be given the chance to pay the young fellow back. Sooner and in darker circumstances than either of us could have expected.

֍

On Friday evening I requested a meeting with Lord Medlow and his terrible daughter. I did not want to but I could always take a bath afterwards. Or a shower. Possibly even both.

“I may have some good news”, I said. “One of the sources I have applied to in London has managed to track down a witness who saw this incident. If we can obtain her testimony then we shall surely achieve justice.”

“That is excellent news, Mr. Holmes”, Lord Medlow said. “Where is she? I do not see her?”

(Presumably he expected me to pull said witness out of thin air!).

“That is why I said 'may have'”, I said. “Unfortunately there is a problem. Miss Mouseland lives down in Aylesbury and was on the local train at the time. She saw what occurred as her train was departing; fortunately she was in the rear carriage so had a most excellent view. However she is most painfully shy and I have been unable to persuade her to agree to testify. Indeed I have had to conduct all proceedings via telegraph as she refused to meet either myself or the doctor.”

Both Medlows gave John the sort of look that showed they thought that hardly surprising. He knew as well as I did that I had met no such person during our sole trip to Aylesbury but he kept silent.

“She was however amenable to a visit from the lady in the case”, I said, “so I have provisionally arranged for Miss Medlow to visit her tomorrow. Although I doubt that she would be able to face any sort of proceedings, I am sure that she would agree to write a short statement stating what she saw.”

“Reinelde will go and see her then”, Lord Medlow said firmly.

His daughter was clearly of mixed emotions; annoyed at having to do this and yet pleased that her evil schemes might be about to reap a reward. And she was right in one aspect. She was most definitely going to get what was coming to her.

֍

The following day John and I went down to Cheddington station where Miss Medlow was going to take her train to Aylesbury. I had provided her with an address in the town the day before. It was a false one but that did not matter. She was not going to reach Aylesbury.

“Her father is not seeing her off?” John asked, surprised.

“I engendered a minor familial crisis which made him have to rush back to London”, I smiled. “Bearing in mind what is about to happen, I wished for her to have no witnesses to what will for her be a short and painful journey.”

“What is going to happen?” John asked at once as we watched the pestilential woman board the train. 

“The train is actually a special that I hired from Mr. Ramsbottom”, I said. “The real branch-line train has left for Aylesbury fifteen minutes ago. Come on, we had better hurry.”

I led the way outside to our cart and set us off at a steady trot.

“Why the hurry?” John asked, surprised.

“We have to get somewhere nearby”, I said, “and we need to beat the train there. But it will not depart for another five minutes and it is only a couple of miles. You will find some clothes in the back.”

He looked round at the two sets of overalls behind us.

“Railway workers?” he asked.

“Yes”, I smiled. “Someone is about to meet their Waterloo!”

֍

We soon arrived at a small but smart wayside halt, a single wooden platform with a well-kept waiting-room. There was a solitary siding currently empty of any trucks, and the station name-boards read 'Dingley Halt'. John looked at me curiously but I gestured for him to follow me in donning our overalls before we hurried across to the siding. From there we could just see over the platform level as we rested on our spades.

A few minutes later the train that we had left behind at Cheddington came chuffing down the tracks, putting out far more steam that was necessary. It juddered to a stop at the little station and the guard alighted, walking along the train yelling “sorry folks, engine failure. We'll have to go back to the junction.”

Miss Medlow stuck her coiffured head out of a window and scowled at the guard's retreating back, then at a porter who failed to open the door for her. Managing that immense task herself she alighted and came after the guard, tapping him on the shoulder.

“What is the meaning of this?” she demanded haughtily.

“Shut up you silly old cow!” he said.

She recoiled in horror. Beside me John gasped. I bit back a laugh.

 _“What did you say?”_ she managed eventually.

“I said shut up you silly old cow!” he said, rolling his eyes. “Honestly, you deaf as well as stupid?”

She turned on the porter who had come up to see what had happening.

“Did you hear that?” she demanded.

“Ye Gods, you're an ugly bitch!”

She screeched in horror, staring between the two men

“This is an _outrage!_ ” she stormed. She looked round for assistance and espied a railway worker painting the fence along the back of the halt. “You are a witness!”

“Too busy trying not to throw up over that excuse for a dress”, the fellow grinned. “They paid you to wear it, I hopes!”

I really wondered if she was going to faint. Still there was probably a doctor somewhere nearby. We were not that far from Cheddington.

“I _demand_ to see the man in charge!” she shrieked.

A smartly-attired station-master with a shock of fair hair came out of the waiting-room and she dodged round the other two men to waylay him.

“Sir, your staff here are brutes!” she snapped. “How can you just....”

“Can't believe any woman can slap on _that_ much make-up!” he snorted. “Talk about a painted pig!”

“Right away!” the guard yelled as the signal changed to clear.

She spluttered indignantly but clearly realized that she was in danger of being left in the middle of nowhere with men who were for some reason prone to express their dislike of her somewhat directly. She hurried back to the slowly-moving coach, opened the door and clambered inside.

We stopped laughing _eventually!_

֍


	3. Chapter 3

_“This is an absolute disgrace!”_ Lord Medlow stormed when we met him on Cheddington station just over an hour later. “I shall be writing to the Railway Company and demanding that these men be sacked _immediately!”_

“I most definitely think that we should find out what has caused such strange behaviour”, I said. We were awaiting the imminent arrival of the branch-line train which was returning from Aylesbury. Not of course the one that the harridan had been on; that was safely on its way back up to Wolverton.

“That guard was _evil!”_ Miss Medlow sobbed, dabbing her eyes and making several tons of make-up run. “He must be the first to be made to pay!”

“We shall soon see”, I said comfortingly. “You described him as a tall blond gentleman with a scar along his cheek?”

She nodded, probably jarring loose even more make-up. The two-coach train came to a halt at the platform and Miss Medlow led the charge towards the guard's compartment followed closely by her father. A short dark-haired fellow got out and checked his flags, then looked confusedly at us.

“May I be helping you sirs, madam?” he said courteously.

“That is not him!” Miss Medlow protested. “Who are you?”

“John Stedham, madam”, the guard said, clearly perplexed. “I work this route. Is something the matter?”

“Where is the other guard?” she demanded. Mr. Stedham looked confused.

“Madam, this is but a short branch-line” he said. “I am the only guard and have been on duty all day.”

Miss Medlow was clearly perturbed by this but rallied quickly.

“We must go back to the station”, she said. “The first stop; that was where I was attacked. Unfortunately I do not recall the name.”

“That seems very sensible”, I agreed, pleased as I had expected to have to suggest that myself. “I am sure that we can find out what is going on there. It cannot be far.”

We all piled into the train and soon we were on our way. After a short journey the train came to a stop and Miss Medlow was first out.

“'Dingley Halt'!” She said triumphantly. “This is the place; I remember a fellow painting the fence at the back.”

“But the fence has not been painted”, John pointed out. She (unsurprisingly) ignored him.

“Was this where it happened, Reinelde?” the harridan's father asked. She nodded.

“The guard insulted me, then the porter, then some idiot painting the fence and then the station-master.”

“But the guard was nothing like what you said”, I observed. “Still, it must indeed be here. During my investigations I had cause to get out at the only other stop on this line, Marston Gate, and that has a large brick station building.”

“Let us see what this rogue of a stationmaster has to say about the way he runs this place!” Lord Medlow said grimly.

He led the way towards the waiting-room followed by his daughter. We were nearly there when the station-master himself emerged, a short, unprepossessing fellow with a bald head. Miss Medlow baulked.

“Sir!” her father barked. “We are here about the way you and your staff insulted my daughter this morning!”

The fellow just looked confused.

“Staff, sir?” he said. “In a place this size? Apart from Old Ben who does porter and odd jobs, you're looking at the staff.”

Lord Medlow spluttered in rage.

“There was a train stopped here this morning”, he said, slowly as if he were talking to an imbecile, “and sent back to Cheddington. While it was here my daughter was insulted. _Four times!”_

The station-master looked at Miss Medlow. I could almost hear him thinking that he was only surprised she had not made five.

“Really?” he said at last. “And what do you mean, a stopped train? Line's been running perfectly all day.”

Lord Medlow spluttered some more.

“Are you accusing my daughter of being a liar?” he managed at last.

“She does seem to have mistaken a guard _and_ a station-master, as well as two seemingly non-existent railway workers”, I said dryly. “And the fence that she said was being painted has very clearly not been. I am afraid that when it comes to the reliability of her testimony, a fair-minded person may well wonder.”

“Reinelde would _never_ lie to me!” Lord Medlow said hotly.

“She lied to you about the assault by Master Buckingham”, I said.

“Prove it!” Miss Medlow hissed.

“Reinelde!”

Lord Medlow stared at his daughter in horror. For the first time I saw doubt in his eyes. Now was the time.

“I thought it highly unlikely that someone as unpleasant as yourself would have anyone to confide in”, I told the woman. “People like you repel others once they discover your true nature, which in your case is ill-concealed in the first place. But like all young girls you need some outlet for your feelings - _and I considered it highly probable that you would keep a diary!”_

The look of horror on her face was probably more enjoyable than it should have been. Then again, no.

“You.. you cannot....” she managed. I smiled knowingly at her.

“Another of my contacts in London is an excellent thief”, I said. “He broke into your school – he says that their security is most excellent by the way – and obtained it for me. In it you list your 'success' at having put one over on those boys, although some might say that ruining someone's young life is hardly a fair measure of that word. Lord Medlow, a copy of the offending page certified by a lawyer is waiting for you at your hotel.”

“Why a copy?” Lord Medlow asked.

“Because I very much fear that the likes of your daughter may one day graduate to much worse than what she has done so far”, I said. “I shall keep the original. Should she persist in this behaviour then I shall hand it to the newspapers.”

“That would ruin me!” Lord Medlow said, aghast.

“Then kindly curb your daughter's behaviour!”

֍

“How did you do it?” John asked later as we began our journey back to London. I grinned.

“Mr. Ramsbottom's men added some temporary fencing and played the roles of the rude railwaymen and a few extra passengers.” 

“Do you think there is any hope that she will improve?” he asked dubiously.

“Very little”, I said. “The important thing is that Lord Medlow has to publicly withdraw the accusations made by his daughter, which everyone who hears about this mess will see as a tacit admission that she lied. Young Master Hereward's name will be cleared.”

“Thank the Lord!” he sighed.

“Thank Sherlock”, I said. “But then I suppose that I can be God-like at times.”

One of these days he would roll those forest-green eyes of his right out of his pretty little head. So I locked our compartment and proceeded to prove the substance of my claim.

֍

Major-General Sherlock had made Lieutenant-General before we reached Watford Junction!

֍

_Postscriptum: I was to be proven all roo right about Miss Medlow who did not change her ways at all. Two years later she committed an indiscretion that forced even her father to succumb to the inevitable and disown her. She then made an attempt on his life so that she might inherit his money but was caught and rightly sentenced to hang. Frankly the world was a better place without her._

֍


End file.
